


Case 169: The Adventure Of The Sticky Wicket (1899)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [217]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Bath Sex, Caring, Cheating, Cricket, Destiel - Freeform, Gay Sex, Jealousy, Johnlock - Freeform, Justice, London, M/M, Technology, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-25 15:31:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17727896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ It's time once more for Doctor Watson's least favourite Cornish ex-fisherman turned molly-man to pop up at Baker Street again, which event never ever makes him the least bit jealous. Mr. Laurence Trevelyan asks for Sherlock's help (and of course leers at him) in a matter that is just not cricket.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaid_diah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaid_diah/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Laurence 'Lowen' Trevelyan, Esquire]_

I suppose it must seem strange for someone in the business of selling happiness to others through sex to say it, but I have always been of the opinion that true happiness is something you have to enjoy for you never know just quite how long it is going to last. For example, when I think of all the vicissitudes that my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes has been through in his relationship with Doctor Watson, I can well understand the latter's cynicism that if good things did happen, the bad ones were merely taking a number and waiting in line. And with my own sudden and recent happiness I was myself on guard for anything that might unsettle it.

Barely a month in though.... come on!

֍

Flip, the love of my life with his tight-fitting too-short vests and love of dead authors, had worked for some years in the business before his marriage had led to his moving house and changing to the molly-house where I was based. I called him Flip because as a Spaniard his original name was Felipe, which naturally became Philip on his coming to England. And also because when I teased him about how such and such other gentleman was really rather attractive, he would take me to our bedchamber and 'flip' my legs right back over my head as he restated his claim on me.

I may have said something like that quite often and I really doubted that he could as he claimed 'fuck the sass right out of me'. But I had less than zero objections to him trying!

There could originally have been nothing between us because Flip was as I said married, one of several men whose wives were fully cognizant of where the extra income was coming from but chose to 'look the other way'. Until Flip's shrew of a wife had decided that another fellow was a better bet and had tried to fleece my man for everything he had. Fortunately Mr. Holmes had ridden to the rescue and she ended up without so much as a penny after he had discovered some of her less salubrious activities and threatened to expose them. And even better Flip was free of her which meant that we could oftentimes sit relaxing in the library together, with me impaled on his mighty cock as he read.... well, something to me. Lord alone knew what!

Flip's 'proper' job was working for Veal's Bank, a pompous collection of stuffed suits even by London standards. He was not really fond of it – well, he was fond of It as my poor backside well knew - but his job did bring in money, and the one thing about it that he did enjoy was the sports club which led to him playing cricket some weekends. Which was a wonderful thing in those tight white trousers as I watched him leave the house because I knew that later I would get to remove them and.....

I really needed to stop having a one-track mind. Even if it was a most pleasurable track!

֍

It was a Saturday, about a month after the divorce had been finalized and Mr. Holmes was in the process of helping Flip selling his old house (he wished for somewhere not besmirched with memories of Her so we were living out of rooms at one of Sweyn's houses for the time). He went off to his cricket as per normal and I had a day with one of my more important clients. I cannot of course give his name but he was a leading politician and damnably unpleasant; unusually I both went for a walk and had a bath after the experience. Fortunately he had also been rather rough so I was able to ask Lloyd to get Sweyn to refuse him entry should he come to any of our houses again. Sweyn was good like that.

I was not expecting Flip back until late on, so I was surprised when I heard him come in while I was still running my bath. At least three hours earlier than usual.

“Flip?” I called down.

He did not immediately reply which worried me even more but eventually I heard his heavy tread on the stairs (I had no idea how he managed that as despite his huge frame there was little meat on his bones), but soon he was with me looking unusually depressed.

“What is it?” I asked, kissing him gently on the cheek. He blushed but answered.

“We went and played the Manchester Road branch”, he said. “I do not know how but I am sure that they cheated; we were bowled out in next to no time and they won easily.”

That sounded odd, I thought. And I knew that Flip felt things like this deeply, especially when they concerned justice and fair play. 

“Why do you not join me in a bath?” I smiled. “And then tomorrow we can go round to Mr. Holmes and ask him to look into this.”

He looked at me dubiously as he started to disrobe.

“Would be do such a thing?” he asked.

“He is very strong on using his talents for his friends, and for friends of his friends”, I said consolingly. “And you are my friend, Flip. You are so much more. Let me hold you.”

He sniffed but continued shedding his clothes until he stood before he in all his naked glory. As I said he was something of a bean-pole but you would not find a more kind-hearted and generous bean-pole either side of the Thames. I led him carefully into the bath and positioned him, then sat down and eased myself back against him. He was some six inches taller than me an I loved feeling him wrap himself around me.

“This feels like what your Doctor Watson would call cuddling”, he smiled.

“If you ever hear John Watson use that word, you had better contact the _'Times'!_ ” I scoffed. “He calls it 'manly embracing'.”

“You have still not yet told him about us?” Flip asked.

“Mr. Holmes likes it when he gets jealous of me”, I grinned. “I can understand that. They are both attractive men, Mr. Holmes especially so.”

He growled angrily before he could stop himself.

“You are asking for it!” he muttered.

“Each and every day of our existence”, I said. “But for now, let us.... do a manly embrace.”

He wrapped his long arms around me and we did exactly that.

֍

The following morning I went over to Baker Street where I was fortunate enough to catch Mr Holmes. And Doctor Watson, but one could not have everything. He very pointedly stood beside his friend when I was showed in, pointedly flashed his ring at me and was still glaring as he went to his table to take notes. From Mr. Holmes' satisfied look someone was most definitely spending a large part of the day being fucked by a totally not-jealous and very lucky city doctor.

“I suppose that this will sound unusual”, I said, “but it concerns Philip who works at the house. He feels that some fellow workers in his company have resorted to cheating at cricket.”

Mr. Holmes took this more calmly than even I had expected, although I noticed the doctor looking at me incredulously.

“Philip”, Mr. Holmes mused. “Mr. Henry from Spain. The tall gentleman with an unfortunate preference for Dickens, but otherwise sound enough. Who is his employer, Lowen?”

There was a muffled growl from a nearby table as he used my old name. We had met twenty years ago now when he had come to my native Scilly Isles on a case and even then I had seen that there was something between him and the sulking menace in the corner. Still I had Flip now so I was happy, as was Mr. Holmes with Mr. Scowl-A-Lot. Or as he soon would be judging from said person's rapidly darkening expression.

“Veal's Bank, which has four branches in the city”, I said. “They run cricket teams in each branch and they compete in a league system with other branches and some other banks every Saturday or sometimes Sunday. He played the Manchester Road branch yesterday and he is sure that they played foul, although he has no idea how.”

“Dickens apart, I trust Mr. Henry's judgement”, Mr. Holmes said. “You may tell him that we will investigate this case. You do not happen to know anything of this cricketing league's schedule by any chance?”

“Only that the return match will be this weekend”, I said. “They always play their matches in pairs, you see.”

“Doing things in pairs is always more enjoyable”, Mr. Holmes smiled. “It was good to see you again, and still looking _so_ young and fit.”

Definitely another growl. Time to make an exit.

“I had better go”, I said. “I do not normally take clients on Sunday but I do have one today.”

(That was sort of true. They were due in four hours' time but from the look on Doctor Watson's face his friend might soon be investigating – or covering up – a murder quite near here soon. Most likely mine if I did not get a move on!).

“We shall not detain you”, Mr. Holmes said. “Good luck.”

I bowed and left. I was not at all surprised to reach the street and look up to see the curtains pulled.

“Lucky sod”, I muttered, resolving to go home and tell Flip that the _handsome_ Mr. Holmes would be helping him out.

֍

Flip probably knew that I was goading him but.... who needed to sit down anyway?

֍


	2. Chapter 2

The following Sunday Flip went off to play the return fixture of his match against the Manchester Road branch. Fortunately for us we both got ready early which was good as the sight of him in those whites..... well, he was soon out of them again as I fucked my claim on him and whispered how much I loved and adored him.

I was becoming such a sap in my.... early middle age.

We made it to the ground where we met Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson, the latter knowing Flip and having treated him recently.

“The ankle is better?” he asked, still eyeing me sharply as I smiled at Mr. Holmes for no particular reason.

“Much better”, Flip grinned. “Industrial injury I am afraid, but perils of the job.”

That was pushing it, I thought. It had actually happened after one of our more intense sessions when I may have dropped a certain sexual aid onto the floor and he had gone over on it. At least it had happened in the house so what he had said was not a _complete_ lie.

“You will have to forgive the doctor”, Mr. Holmes smiled. “He is a little put out after a certain royal event recently.”

My curiosity was piqued, especially as the doctor's face looked even darker when he said that.

“What event?” I inquired.

“We were invited to a ball at Buckingham Palace”, Mr. Holmes said. “A great social event, but unfortunately John could not attend as one of his clients went into labour an an inopportune moment.”

The doctor's scowl only intensified.

“Do not forget to tell him about the _lady!”_ the doctor said sourly. Mr. Holmes smiled.

“A certain lady there did give me a look that, according to the newspapers, might have been classified as a simper”, he said. 

“A certain widowed lady in black and of some eighty years of age”, the doctor scowled. _“And it is in all the papers!”_

“Did you find anything out?” I asked Mr. Holmes, thinking that as the doctor sometimes treated me then annoying him too much might be unwise. Or fatal. I was only two years out from being forty and I despite everything associated with that milestone I still wanted to get there in one piece.

(That reminded me, I still owed a certain Spanish someone five years my junior for that remark about 'such flexibility at _your_ age'!)

“I did find something”, Mr. Holmes said, “but it will have to wait until after the match.”

“Won't be a long one if it's like last time”, Flip said with a sigh. “At least they're up first today so they'll have to spend some time building a lead.”

Mr. Holmes smiled knowingly. I judged from the doctor's pout that he was not in on whatever his friend had planned. And that he would be trying to 'persuade' his friend to tell him once I had gone. 

I did not rush to leave.

֍

“What is that?” I wondered looking at what looked like a food-stand near the screen on the boundary. “Surely it should not be on the field of play?”

“I understand it is one of these technological devices that they use to make the ground better in some way”, Mr. Holmes said.

I looked at him sharply. There was something in his tone that I did not quite believe, and I had caught him nodding in the direction of the fellow in charge of the machine. Honestly, whatever had happened to a simple game of cric.....

“Howzat!”

The Manchester Road batsman swung round sharply and stared incredulously at his wicket, the middle stump of which was now leaning back at an angle.

“How the blazes did that happen?” 

The batsman's captain had come up to us and was staring at the wicket. 

“I rather believe that the ball hit it”, Mr. Holmes said dryly. “That is after all the point of the game.”

The captain, a burly fellow who could have eclipsed the sun let alone the wicket, scowled at him then trundled off. He was up next apparently.

He managed two singles and then a two before a ball shot past him.

“Howzat”!

“Come on!” the captain yelled. “That was nowhere near the wicket.”

“Yet the wicket is definitely down”, the umpire said dryly. “You, sir, are out.”

֍

The Manchester Road branch made a rather unimpressive twenty-two runs which Flip's team polished off in just under four overs without losing a wicket. His opponents took the defeat with all the grace that I had expected and their captain stormed up to us with an older gentleman in tow.

“Mr. Michaels, I am sure that these fellows have been up to something!” he said firmly.

“I am Mr. Jebediah Michaels, chairman of Veal's Bank”, the older man said. “Is what Mr. Sharpton says at all true?”

“Oh yes”, Mr. Holmes said blithely.

We all stared at him in surprise.

“What?” Mr. Michaels said, recovering first. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Holmes smiled.

“I am sure that you have heard of the wonderful new technology of radio, sir”, he said to the chairman. “It doubtless has many most beneficial uses, but like all such things it can be abused. And this personage, Mr. Sharpton, has been using the fact that his son is a scientist in that particular field to do just that.”

He pointed to where the food-thing was.

“That item conceals a very powerful radio transmitter”, he said. “And the stumps used are fitted with a receiving device. When he sees a ball goes near to the wicket, the operator presses a button and two things happen. A small cap explodes mimicking the sound of a strike and the wicket falls over.”

He turned on Mr. Sharpton who backed away from him.

“Having worked out what you did, I ambushed your fellow coming into the grounds today and had him escorted somewhere else”, he said. “I then placed my own operator in charge, but this time with instructions to work the new technology against your team for once. I also intercepted the umpires and explained your foul deeds to them; naturally they were more than happy to co-operate in seeing the tables turned on you.”

He turned back to Mr. Michaels.

“It is not for me to dictate such things”, he said, “but you may wish to consider whom you employ in your branches in future. A man who would cheat at the gentleman's game is not someone that I would wish to be anywhere near any of _my_ finances. Good day, sir.”

And with that he led the way out.

֍

A perfect ending, especially as in celebration I got Flip to fuck me while wearing his whites. I could always afford to buy him a new pair!

֍


End file.
